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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378599">Deprived</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_reidsanchorsocks/pseuds/dr_reidsanchorsocks'>dr_reidsanchorsocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid Whump [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I mean it kinda is, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Insomnia, Relapse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, and like therell be cute preslash moreid content, but I promise it gets better, im sorry, im sorry but also not sorry for all the angst, ive only written this at like 2-4am, no beta we die like men, omg this sounds so dark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:33:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_reidsanchorsocks/pseuds/dr_reidsanchorsocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid was tired. Very, very tired. Well, tired wasn’t the right word for what he was currently experiencing; exhausted maybe, drained, fatigued, knackered, dead. Spencer could name a hundred synonyms and yet he knew that none of them would be able to properly encapsulate how he feels in this moment.</p><p>-<br/>-</p><p>Or Spencer Reid is a chronic insomniac and it leads to a relapse :(</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner &amp; Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan &amp; Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau &amp; Spencer Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid Whump [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Deprived</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi so this takes place around season 6, after emily dies and jj leaves. im guessing around 4 or 5 months after emily fakes her death but idk use ur imagination. theres a huge tw for drug use and depression so please take care of urself if u struggle w that. i struggle w major depressive disorder and chronic insomnia and im currently just over a month sober from painkillers so this is all based on my own experience. i will say that i only ever used pills so the injection process might not be entirely accurate. please let me know if theres anything i could improve on or if theres anything u liked !! kudos/comments/subs are greatly appreciated and if u feel so inclined check out my tumblr <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/reidsmissmatchedsocks">reidsmissmatchedsocks</a> :) im very open to prompts and feedback so please feel free!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spencer Reid was tired. Very, very tired. Well, tired wasn’t the right word for what he was currently experiencing; exhausted maybe, drained, fatigued, knackered, dead. Spencer could name a hundred synonyms and yet he knew that none of them would be able to properly encapsulate how he feels in this moment. The young doctor was currently sat at his desk, desperately trying to focus on his paperwork from the previous case. It had been a quick one, relatively easy compared to what the team was used to. He’d worked on the geographical profile for a serial rapist and murderer in Maine who was targeting middle-aged mothers. As heinous as the crimes were, they weren’t exactly out of the ordinary for Spencer’s line of work, so he’d become fairly desensitized to the brutality he saw everyday. </p><p>Anyways, the case was easy, and they were able to find him and take him down before another attack. It seemed his mommy issues had pushed him into a psychotic break, and it lead to him attacking women that reminded him of his mother. All in all, the case was pretty standard and so was the paperwork that usually Spencer would have finished by now, if not hours ago. But instead, he was sitting at his desk willing his usual concentration to come back. You see, the genius doctor with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory had a tendency to be quite unintelligent sometimes – right now being one of those times. Spencer had been awake for 46 hours straight at this point. Not that it was entirely his fault, but the coffee definitely wasn’t helping.</p><p>Now, any sane person, or at least any person with a decent idea of self-preservation would decide to maybe call in sick to work that day and get some sleep. But Spencer unfortunately was neither sane nor in possession of an ounce of self-preservation, so he decided to go into work instead and take advantage of the free coffee, ingesting copious amounts of caffeine in an attempt to stay upright. He figured that coming to work was the smart thing to do, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways so it’d be better to utilize his time in a productive way. Though he wasn’t exactly feeling productive at the moment. He knew that there was a significant decline in cognitive function after 16 hours of being awake, making him neurologically parallel to a drunk at the moment but he just <i> could not  fall asleep. </i></p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>Recently his nightmares had been coming back full force, reminding him of the weeks after Hankel. Spencer had been getting less and less sleep every night until suddenly he just wasn’t getting any at all. In the past week he’d slept 17 hours and he was getting worried. He tried blaming it on the stress of JJ leaving, Emily dying and his persistent headaches but that only worked for so long until he started to realize maybe he had a real problem. His grief was loud, and he was well acquainted with depression at this point, but he was starting to move on from Emily’s death. However, the insomnia was getting unbearable and he was having a hard time functioning. Spencer was getting worried about his profiles, scared he’d make a mistake because of his ever-present weariness and it’d cost someone their life. He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind, but it was nearly impossible, seemingly having lost control of his own internal dialogue. The fog Spencer was currently trying to work through had set over his head by the 30-hour mark and it only seemed to get worse by the hour. God he hoped he would be able to sleep tonight. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand another day of this. </p><p>Spencer’s awareness had been off the whole day, feeling paranoid but also very distant from his surroundings. He decided to blame the fact he didn’t hear Hotch come up behind him on this. </p><p>“Reid!” Spencer jumped as he heard his boss’ voice cut through his daze. He rubbed his eyes before turning around and replying.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry. What’s up.” Hotch’s face crumpled in a mix of concern and confusion. Spencer had become quite accustomed to this look over his years at the BAU.</p><p>“You feeling all right? I figured you would’ve had that report done a few hours ago.” Feeling guilt and embarrassment swirl up in the pit of his stomach he looked away from Hotch’s eyes, trying to avoid his disappointment.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m just tired. I’ll be finished soon I just need some more coffee.” He let out a weak chuckle and turned back towards his report, draining the remaining coffee from his mug. However, Hotch did not move. He just stood there, staring at the back of Spencer’s head. Slowly Spencer spun his chair back around, met with a stern look that told him Hotch didn’t believe a word he said.</p><p>“Spencer?”</p><p>“… Yeah?”</p><p>“How much did you sleep last night?” He suddenly felt very conscious of the bags under his eyes, so dark they looked almost bruised. His hair was also quite disheveled, not bothering to attempt to tame it this morning with so little energy in his body. He was sure his eyes were bloodshot as well. God, he probably looked stoned to anyone who didn’t know him.</p><p>“… 8 hours?” Spencer offered up, barely bearing semblance to a lie. He didn’t even know why he was bothering to hide his sleep deprivation at this point.</p><p>“Are you asking me?” He weakly smiled and shrugged. Hotch looked down at him and Spencer vaguely wondered if this was the same feeling Jack had when his dad caught him with his hand down a cookie jar.</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“Spencer when was the last time you slept?”</p><p>His brain automatically supplied his mouth with the reply before he had time to stop himself. </p><p>“46 hours, 12 minutes and 39 seconds.” He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, internally cursing himself for actually answering his now pissed unit leader.</p><p>“Reid!”</p><p>“I know I know, but I couldn’t fall asleep and I figured I’d be more useful here than just sitting around at home.”</p><p>“Spencer you can’t keep doing this, you have to sleep at some point.” <i> Yeah no shit! </i> Spencer almost snapped at him before he shut his mouth and counted to five. <i> Calm down dumbass, he just cares about you, he’s not trying to attack you. </i> Spencer knew he needed sleep, of course he did. Unfortunately, his brain seemed to have other ideas for him and there wasn’t exactly anything he could do about it. <i> Yes there is. </i> Spencer felt a light itch at his elbows as his mind took him to places he’d rather not go. He’d been having cravings lately, coming back along with the nightmares that plagued his damaged sleep. They seemed to only get harder and harder to ignore everyday and he prayed they would just go away soon. Unfortunately, Spencer had never been blessed with good luck, today not being the exception.</p><p> <i> You’ve been awake for almost two days. You need to sleep, to rest. You can do that if you want. Just take out your phone. We both know you never forget a number.  </i> He tried to shut out the voice in his head repeating the same seven digits that could finally get him some relief, but he was too tired to filter it.</p><p>“I know, Hotch.” He sighed.</p><p>“Maybe you should go home for today. Try to get some rest.” Spencer nodded before standing up.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea. See you tomorrow.” Spencer knew he shouldn’t be alone right now. He was tired and he wasn’t thinking straight. Not to mention almost at the point of doing <i> anything </i> in order to get an hour of sleep. His want for Dilaudid was so bad he was starting to get scared of himself. What used to be a dull itch every once in a while had transformed into a burning ache in his veins every time he awoke, only getting worse everyday. It was almost unbearable, and Spencer wasn’t entirely sure what was preventing him from going out and getting high again. JJ had left, Emily was gone, everyone had their own problems to deal with and he couldn’t even do his job properly. <i> Why was he even still here? </i> </p><p>Attempting to brush off his dark thoughts he grabbed his bag and started walking towards the doors. <i> Maybe you should go to a meeting. No, you haven’t needed one in years you’ll be fine just go home. </i> He continued to argue with himself until he heard his phone ring. He looked at the screen, it was Derek. Spencer decided to ignore it, preferring to keep walking, hoping he’d be able to get to the metro before he collapsed. </p><p>The walk to the station was slow but pleasant, the cool evening air helping to wake Spencer up a bit. The sky was a dark grey colour and the clouds seemed low enough to touch the ground. It was foggy but in a calming way opposed to a threatening one. He felt his phone buzz as Derek started to call him yet again, but he ignored it, hoping the man would get the message. If it was anything that important Hotch would probably call him and otherwise Derek would try again soon. Spencer decided if Derek called a third time he’d pick up, just in case. But a few minutes went by with nothing, so he assumed it was fine and turned off his phone.</p><p>Spencer eventually arrived at his apartment, taking his shoes off at the door and throwing his blazer on the coat rack. He yawned and sat down on his couch. Pulling out his phone and turning it back on. He was greeted with a few texts from Derek and a missed call from Hotch. He scrolled through them, debating answering.</p><p>- Derek, 7:23 PM<br/>
Hey man, you alright? Tried calling but you didn’t pick up</p><p>- Derek, 7:31 PM<br/>
You were acting kinda off today, was wondering if you wanted to hang out? Hotch said you went home, I can come over</p><p>- Derek, 7:40 PM<br/>
Just let me know if you got home safe. See you tomorrow</p><p>1 Missed Call – Aaron Hotchner, 7:36 PM</p><p>Spencer felt a bit guilty as he looked through the messages from Derek. He should just let him know he’s okay. Making him worry won’t help his sleep get any better.</p><p>- Spencer, 7:52 PM<br/>
Hey, sorry my phone was dead. I’ll see you tomorrow.</p><p>He turned his phone back off, not really caring whether or not Derek answered. As long as he wasn’t worrying anyone it was fine, they would probably just leave him alone. Spencer closed his eyes and started mindlessly scratching at his elbows while his head pounded. He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on when he entered his apartment which he was happy about right now, his eyes already hurting. Of course, Spencer knew that lack of sleep could trigger one of his migraines, he was just hoping it wouldn’t. Nothing could ever go the way he wanted though, could it? </p><p>The cravings only seemed to get worse by the minute. Spencer’s mind was racing, but he couldn’t get it to stop. He knew, god he knew, how stupid it would be to get high right now. But he was just so tired. So fucking tired. And Spencer also knew exactly how easy it would be to make it stop. He pulled out his phone before he could talk himself out of it and dialed the number he thought he’d never call again. He could almost laugh. Almost.</p><p>“Who’s this?” Spencer’s gut twisted as he started to reply.</p><p>“Spencer.”</p><p>“Oh shit. Hey kid, thought you got clean.”</p><p>“Yeah well things change.”</p><p>“That they do. What d’ya want?”</p><p>“Same as always.”</p><p>“Alright, you remember my prices, right? Nevermind, of course you do. Meet me at the shop.”</p><p>Spencer hung up and started his way down to the convenient store with a couple of bills stuffed in his front pocket. He left his phone on the couch, ignoring his messages and missed calls. Soon he was gonna sleep. Soon he was gonna feel better. Spencer ignored his own self-disgust as he walked out the front door.</p><p> </p><p>45 minutes later and Spencer was sitting on his ugly, brown couch holding a bag. <i> A kit you mean. </i> He tried to ignore his internal dialogue as he opened it up. He pulled out the vial, setting it on his coffee table in front of him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, desperately attempting to settle his racing heart. He reached back in the bag, this time grabbing one of the needles he picked up along with some bandages and alcohol swabs. If he was gonna do this again he might as well be safe. </p><p>He pulled his belt from his corduroy pants and took off his green cardigan that covered his arms – and track marks. Spencer tore off the packaging on the syringe and wrapped the belt around his upper arm loosely, before pulling it tight. He uncapped the Dilaudid and pushed the needle into the rubber top, drawing up the plunger until he got his desired amount of the liquid. His brain was screaming at him to <i> please call JJ, or Derek, or Hotch or anyone! </i> But instead, he just injected it. </p><p>The relief was nearly instantaneous as Spencer let his head fall back onto the couch. Somewhere his mind was telling him his neck was going to be sore when he came down but right now he really didn’t care. He finally felt okay, calm, like maybe he could take a fucking nap. Spencer took of the belt and his shoes, stumbling down his hall into his bedroom before collapsing on his bed. He finally fell asleep.</p><p>End of Chapter One</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi so i hope u liked this first chapter!! im currently writing the second one and im hoping ill be finished within the next week. again, comments/kudos/subs are super appreciated and feel free to check out my tumblr <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/reidsmissmatchedsocks">reidsmissmatchedsocks</a> or send me promts there or in the comments!! thanks for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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